


Some Say In Ice

by Devilc



Category: The Vampire Diaries
Genre: Ice Play, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-02
Updated: 2010-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alaric seems to throughly enjoy himself every time Damon puts a few ice cubes in his glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Say In Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spasticat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spasticat/gifts).



> Draft one was a comment fic at Spasticat's DW. She said, _"And now I go back to Damon and Alaric. This sidestepping into Jeremy's world was a nice diversion but there's more serious things to tackle...like what *kind* of scotch does Damon like and *how* he does he like to drink it? Does he twirl it in his glass counter-clockwise? Does he adulterate it with ice cubes? Does he like to place said ice cubes on Alaric's chest and if so...does he lick upwards or downwards?_
> 
> Title and quote are from Robert Frost's poem "Fire and Ice"
> 
> Legalese: The Vampire Diaries is copyright its respective owners. This is a story written as a bit of thinking out loud and not as labor for gain.

>   
> _Some Say the World Will End in Fire.  
>  Some say in Ice._   
> 

  
Damon's not a scotch snob, but he certainly knows a good one from a bad one. (Stefan, alas, is ever something of a philistine when it comes to these things. He doesn't drink for enjoyment. He just drinks to get drunk.)

The contents of the the square decanter next to the rocks glasses varies. Sometimes it's Glenfinnan, sometimes it's Laphroaig, and sometimes, it's Johnny Walker Black.

It depends on his mood, and Damon's a man of ever shifting moods.

In fact, it's not always _scotch_ in that bottle. Last month he was in the mood for Maker's Mark. There's even been Bushmills (the 21 year old kind) and Jameson in there.

Mostly he drinks it neat, but on a hot night or if he's in that itchy mood to have the play of fire and ice in his mouth, yes, an ice cube or two finds its way in.

When he's with Alaric, there's always ice cubes in the glass. Big square ice cubes. The kind that do not come from a refrigerator's dispenser. The kind that seem to exist only in glossy magazine advertisements. The kind that come only from a tray. A tray that Damon purchased from a specialty shop that caters to drinkware enthusiasts.

(Stefan pointed out that their very expensive refrigerator makes ice cubes. But he doesn't get these things and he never will.)

Damon _loves_ to place these big, square, crystal-clear ice cubes on Alaric's chest -- Alaric always yelps and says he hates it, but that's kind of the point. Neither is this the first time Damon's placed ice in his scotch when ... unwinding ... with Alaric.

(Besides, if Alaric really hated it, he'd say so. With his fists. The moment Damon untied him.)

He places the ice cube square in the middle between Alaric's pecs and watches as Alaric's nipples harden and his muscles clench all on their own. Damon's not quite sure why Alaric's nipples harden, it's not like he's running the ice cube over them. He wonders if Alaric's really that sensitive to cold, or is it anticipation, or both. Sometimes Alaric's pecs clench so tightly that he can see little scallop edged striations where the muscle joins to the breastbone.

He waits and watches the cube start melting, water pooling at the base and then one little rivulet of meltwater runs and collects in that sexy little notch where the collarbones meet at the base of the throat before overflowing and spilling down both sides of Alaric's neck and Damon _always_ thinks about lapping at the contents of that tiny pocket -- imagines the cool water tinged with the salty taste of Alaric's skin rippling over his tongue. Thinks of the way that Alaric would compulsively swallow as he delicately licked at that oh so tender (and tasty) and ticklish bit of flesh, the way Alaric would gasp if Damon's tongue continued to follow the trail of water down the side of his neck.

But the other rivulet runs down through the just-right-sprinkling-of-hair on Alaric's chest, darkening it, slicking it into an unmistakable line as it heads towards Alaric's navel, and this water tastes of Alaric's salt and musk and a thousand other heady things unique to the man.

Damon knows this because this is the path Damon always chooses, and he snakes ever downwards, eventually dancing his tongue just beneath that little sparkling jewel of water perched at the top of the treasure trail and by this point Alaric's completely worked up and gasps and swears and calls him "a goddamned tease" or something to that effect.

Damon takes great delight in showing Alaric he's no tease. In the most teasing way possible, of course. And (empty protests about how Damon's an evil son of a bitch and "I'm going to kill you for this" aside) Alaric seems to throughly enjoy himself every time Damon puts a few ice cubes in his glass.

One day, Damon's going to choose that other path, the one that leads up to that little pool of water at the base of Alaric's neck and he's not going to satisfy himself with just the taste of water on that day.

One day he and Alaric are going to play for keeps.

But today is not that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Has a companion piece in [Some Say in Fire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/239300).


End file.
